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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25993294">I Lost Track of Us</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyourRadar/pseuds/OnyourRadar'>OnyourRadar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SKAM (France)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Concept of Time, Happy Ending, Hurt? Comfort?, I take "giving your time away" to a whole new level, LUcas Relearns a lot of things, Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not sure if there is one, Repetitious language/Phrase, Strangers to Lovers, These boys love each other okay, Time - Freeform, Weird, age difference? or it appears so, ambiguous - Freeform, but they do, can we just trust that they will be together....even though half the fic, is like...pointing to them not?, magic?, magical realism?, plot?, sorry mama lallemant, sorry mr. omc, what am i even tagging anymore, yall know me by now...or at least I hope you do</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 02:40:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25993294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyourRadar/pseuds/OnyourRadar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"If I give my time to you, will you take it?" </p><p>Eliott's heartbeat quickens and Lucas searches his face for a yes while the answer that slips out is a,</p><p>"No. It's  yours." </p><p> </p><p>--or--<br/>Lucas is eighteen when he meets a boy named Eliott.<br/>He should have cherished every moment of it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Lost Track of Us</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalie19h34/gifts">natalie19h34</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>OKAY Be gentle. I feel all out of sorts and out of practice because I haven't uploaded in a hot minute and I swear my writing is like...diminishing. I'm sorry if this story makes zero sense because I literally wrote this in pieces every free minute I had in the last 72 hours while working and/or late at night. SO....enjoy...best enjoyed on a mobile phone. Just cuz...I wrote this shit on my phone.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lucas meets Eliott when he is eighteen. Eliott who sits next to his master, not five feet away from where Lucas sits by his mother's feet. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas pays little attention at first. Eyes more riveted on the thick cherry wood shelves that lined every inch of the workshop walls. Situated still, alive, and staring back are the glass faces of clocks; some new but most old—antique and wooden with creaking gears. They tell a story that transcends what Lucas knew as life. </p><p> </p><p>Had Lucas not been so caught up in catching sight of dust floating in air, landing and leaving streaks of passing time, he might have realized then who this boy was, who he would be, and how important he would come to be for Lucas. </p><p> </p><p>But he is caught up. </p><p> </p><p>He is inside himself—inside his thoughts, his mind—while they speak of his condition. Next to him his mother cries, sitting ugly in her sadness. Lucas sits unbothered, attention honed in on the giant hourglass that silently weeps grains of black sand and counts down the hour. </p><p> </p><p>"He is the first I've seen with this condition. Was it you, that willed it?" </p><p> </p><p>Lucas wonders what it would be like to feel the gentle pour of sand atop his head. Would he feel that unbearable weight?</p><p> </p><p>Would he suffocate?</p><p> </p><p>"I...I wanted him to live." </p><p> </p><p>"Is this what you call living?" </p><p> </p><p>Is he able to anymore? Lucas held his breath as that glass fills up. Missed that feeling. That burning of corrupted lungs. But he never grew dizzy.  Not even as he chased the polluted air that he no longer needed. </p><p> </p><p>"—that...she told me you can help, if you can't—"</p><p> </p><p>"I never said I couldn't. She wasn't wrong. But even my time is coming to pass. Once I am gone...Eliott will take over."</p><p> </p><p>Even then Lucas avoids their telling gaze. Instead, he watches the twitch of the old master's mustache as he talks and his mouth moves slow and steady; muffled. That wrinkled skin drooping and marred with marks of age. He tried to count the freckles, big and small, round and oval. He lost count at 20. </p><p> </p><p>But like that Lucas was back to thoughts filled with nothing but the ticking and grinding of those clocks—he wishes he hadn't wasted so much time, back then. </p><p> </p><p>It was in him to ignore the siren's call that was his warped life. </p><p> </p><p>He chose to dance with it instead. </p><p> </p><p>He meets Eliott when he is eighteen.</p><p> </p><p>He should have cherished every moment of it. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>Lucas is eighteen when the old master passes. He grew used to those hands that thrummed with a quiet strength and spoke of a worldly wisdom—hands that moved with a grace that told stories of patience and skill. Lucas is familiar with him and thanked the man who worked on his body, who gave into his childish demands of having to lie on the floor during his overhaul. </p><p> </p><p>While he fed him oil. Lucas let the master open his chest, those kind graying eyes hazy with years past and staring intently at the gears that churned in his chest. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas didn't  remember what it was like to show kindness on his face but he knew it in his thoughts and only wished it could show if only he had a heart. But he thinks what he felt was a love had between a father and son. </p><p> </p><p>When the old master died, Lucas wished he could cry. Because his thoughts scream at him to let it all out but he finds himself unable to. </p><p> </p><p>When he is eighteen and the old master died, Eliott takes over and Lucas thinks of how now they are truly connected. Because the first time Eliott works on Lucas, it is with tears that drip down his chin and soaks Lucas' wooden chest while his hands remain steady. </p><p> </p><p>Sure, all those times before when Lucas would sit for his appointment under the clinical hands of the master, Eliott was always beside him watching and taking in how to fine-tune his body to ensure that he lived.</p><p> </p><p>But the shift comes when Lucas stares  up at his face from his place stationary on the floor, chest open and simply knew. </p><p> </p><p>He was looking in the face of a grieving man. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas is eighteen when Eliott starts working on him regularly. It is the youthful face filled with a dark kindness and bright sunshine that greets Lucas moving forward. </p><p> </p><p>Eliott becomes his regular. His status quo. The reason his life keeps ticking away. Eliott keeps Lucas alive and stares down with so much concentration when he worked that Lucas thought,</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> This is what it looks like to love what you do.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, Lucasthinks perhaps Eliott grew to love Lucas and not just the task. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas knows if he had a heart, he can easily give his love for all the kindness Eliott has shown him. He can love those soft gazes and the gentle lift of lips when their eyes connect. He didn't  need a heart to tell him why his thoughts ran rampant with images of Eliott who breathed life into Lucas' body.</p><p> </p><p>Lucas loses count of the times Eliott works on him, but notices how Eliott's skill grows by the day. He imagines the love he might have felt if his chest beat like that of a humans, was that given only to a lover. </p><p> </p><p>"Do you like working on me?" </p><p> </p><p>He'd  asked after an hour had passed and Eliott was still tinkering, learning the intricacies of his make up. </p><p> </p><p>His voice causes pause, in Eliott's movement that day and his mother stills in her seat somewhere in the corner of the room, out of sight. </p><p> </p><p>Eliott smiles back at him. Breath escapes in small huffs. </p><p> </p><p>"I like that you are alive." </p><p> </p><p>Lucas is eighteen when the old master dies and Eliott takes over. Lucas was eighteen when he wished he could turn back time and never met a boy named Eliott. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Lucas' mother dies when he is eighteen. </p><p> </p><p>He finds her looking peaceful, curled up on her side. Eyes closed and seemingly the same as she had been the night before, when he left her with a dry kiss on her cheeks and a whispered good night. </p><p> </p><p>He thinks for a moment, how perhaps the moons  had whisked her away after falling in love with such a mortal.</p><p>He looked at her unmoving chest and his mind wailed and his body broke  as his heart remained still in the confines of his hardened chest.</p><p> </p><p>He finds her in the morning, sunbeams warming cooled skin and he sat on the floor by her bedside, holding fingers that could no longer curl, rigid in death.</p><p> </p><p>He stares for hours unblinking, mind willing her to move but she was deaf to his wants. He should bury her in their yard and plant her favorite flowers to keep her company. </p><p> </p><p>His mind paints pretty petals red, poppies for him to remember her by— the curved lips of chrysanthemums to lay kisses on her grave. He plays the picture in his mind as his chest stutters and reminds him that he has an appointment the day she dies. </p><p> </p><p>She always went with him everytime he was in need of an overhaul. He wasn't  sure he'd  want to continue if he were to go alone. He sits by her bedside when the sun is just rising long until the sun dips low in the sky. </p><p> </p><p>He sits there pondering how to go about his days when a knock echoed in the hollowness of his chest and chambers of his head and Lucas is forced to get up and let go. He shuffles his feet against the floorboards and relishes the sounding creeks. </p><p> </p><p>When he opened the door to their home—his home now, Lucas recollects, he sees Eliott's weary face. Eliott carries a bag of tools; a leather strapped bag gripped by oil stained fingers. </p><p> </p><p>Lips down turned and eyes a starry grey, pools that mirrored the galaxy and won in its beauty. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas  looks away first. Fingers clenching at the door, opening it wider to let the man in. </p><p> </p><p>"You had an appointment today." </p><p> </p><p>Lucas nods. </p><p> </p><p>"Mama died today." He states matter of fact because it wasn't  a lie and there was nothing to hide. The stench of her death clings to him and he feels washed with worry that perhaps Eliott might smell it on him. </p><p> </p><p>But Eliott  says nothing as he stills in his steps.</p><p> </p><p>He turns, knuckles clenched white and a tension in his shoulders. Looking like all the years they have known each other was making itself present. The crows feet near his eyes deeply grooved, the skin of his face still perfectly beautiful but aged. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas didn't  like to be reminded. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm  sorry." Eliott said, soft voice carrying. </p><p> </p><p>"Me too" Lucas responds. Sorry for what? Sorry for everything. </p><p> </p><p>Sorry that Eliott aged and Lucas didn't. Sorry that he couldn't  keep his mother from dying the way she had with him. </p><p> </p><p>Perhaps if he had a heart he could have willed her to live, brought her to a witch and begged for her life. Showed others how much love he held for his mother. </p><p> </p><p>In his grieving he forgets she's  the reason he can't  love. </p><p> </p><p>Dutifully, Lucas lies on the floor and waits for those warm hands to be placed on him. He should feel unnerved by the way Eliott shifts his gears but his mind supplies him with trust. Because he willingly places his life in Eliott's hands everyday. </p><p> </p><p>"Will you help me bury her?" </p><p> </p><p>Trust.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't  expect the question to startle Eliott but it does and there is a sudden grinding  and soulsplittling creaking that makes his eyes flutter and mouth drop open when it happens. </p><p> </p><p>Eliott repairs his mistake in a matter of seconds but the ordeal seems to have aged him a couple of years and the sight of those panicked eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas thinks it's a moment to smile so he does. He hasn't  quiet forgotten how it doesn't always remember that he can. Those eyes dart down to his lips, back up to his eyes and Eliott swallows once before nodding. </p><p> </p><p>"Of course."</p><p> </p><p>"Could you help me pick the flowers?" Flowers that might shed tears for him as they whispered names of the dead. Dress her beautifully and send her on her way. Dig her a grave and mark it with a stone that lay bare of markings. Because there were no words Lucas could think up to capture her essence. </p><p> </p><p>Eliott agrees to it all. When his chest is screwed on tight and everything ticked and sounded just right, Lucas grabs at those hands that have become familiar to him. Holds it to his face and drops a kiss on calloused fingertips and worn palms in thanks. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas is eighteen when his mother dies and Eliott breathes life into Lucas' body as he helps bury her cold one.</p><p> </p><p>Lucas wishes then, that he could trade places with her. Wishes then, while they stood over her grave, Lucas eighteen and Eliott twenty-four, that he could stop time for those he loved. </p><p> </p><p>Stop time much like time had stopped for him. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Lucas is eighteen when he realizes his thoughts have become the gateway to his feelings—something he thought he lost. This realization changes the way he thinks. Words and images that cloud and take up space in his head. Thoughts that— had he the ability to push air in and out of his lungs and carried blood to flush his cheeks—would cause Lucas to take heaving breaths and glow red for days.  </p><p> </p><p>It starts off routinely, his appointment with Eliott. He likes the quiet of the room as he stares up at the ceiling. Likes the comfort of the room as he catches sight of that hourglass from the corner of his eyes. Likes the sound of the room familiar like his thoughts echoed out loud in the ticking of the clocks that surround them. </p><p> </p><p>While Eliott works, Lucas drifts and he catches wind of a distant memory from years before when Eliott first starts to learn how to make his body sing. Lucas remembers. </p><p> </p><p>Eliott is meticulous with his work. His concentration is something to admire and Lucas does—admires him that is. </p><p> </p><p>There are moments when he is there above him and all Lucas can do is watch the way Eliott's hair moves with him. Lucas counts the anount times he blinks and sees how those stormy freckled eyes dilate in the fading and flickering light. </p><p> </p><p>Moments when Eliott leans close and breathes warmth on Lucas' face without realizing it and all Lucas sees is the possibility of that face upturned and eyes staring right back at him.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Images of Eliott closing that distance between them and perhaps Lucas would be reminded  what it was like to be kissed. To feel more than just skin. </p><p> </p><p>To <em> feel </em>Eliott. </p><p> </p><p>For a while he doesn't  know how to place these thoughts. What to categorize them as. But he remembers, perhaps days past, when he used to <em> think </em>of things he loved and conjured up images so that they may live in his mind and his heart. </p><p> </p><p>Perhaps when he thinks of Eliott in such a way that is what he is doing. He is remembering how to feel. See, it is not that Lucas forgets his feelings, but now, <em> ever since then, </em>Lucas is in the process of remembering everything that was meant to come naturally. </p><p> </p><p>He thinks of when he laughs, how it used to feel and sound. The bubble of it building inside him. </p><p> </p><p>He learns to recreate. </p><p> </p><p>But with Eliott, Lucas finds that he doesn't  need to try so hard. He doesn't  need to imagine him there. Eliott just is. In his space and in his thoughts. </p><p> </p><p>He is. </p><p> </p><p>So when Lucas <em> thinks </em> of Eliott he is slow to realize that his <em> thoughts </em> are his simple way of loving someone. </p><p> </p><p>So when it is not Eliott who closes that distance, but Lucas—brings those smooth lips against his cold ones, his fingers curling on blushing cheeks as he <em> remembers </em> to close his eyes because this was a moment— Lucas imagines there isn't a stillness in his chest. He takes the movements of gears for what they were.</p><p> </p><p>The slow tick that allows him to continue to be in Eliott's life. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas is eighteen when he changes the way he thinks and shows Eliott exactly what he feels. </p><p> </p><p>Eliott pulls away scrambling and Lucas sits up his chest still open between them. He leans forward and a gear falls out; a heavy thunk on the floorboards. </p><p> </p><p>It rolls slightly away from him and situates itself neatly between the both of them. Lucas stares at it but doesn't  want it back. </p><p> </p><p>When he looks up at Eliott, mouth dropped open, fingers touching lightly at plushed lips and eyes wide and panicked, Lucas thinks he should remember shame. </p><p> </p><p>The thought of it comes easy. </p><p> </p><p>"Do you think I'm  unnatural?" </p><p> </p><p>Lucas watches as the other boy swallows, and shakes his head. A movement that was small. Unconvincing.</p><p> </p><p>"That's not it, Lucas I—" </p><p> </p><p>"Do you think you should go?" He asks. Provides Eliott with an out. Gives him no reason to stay because the longer that he does, Lucas might just remember sadness. </p><p> </p><p>"Lucas it's  not that, plea—"</p><p> </p><p>But Lucas doesn't want to hear, he wants to simply be left in peace, so that his thoughts  may consume him in his new way of thinking. </p><p> </p><p>"Can you fix me back up tomorrow? When I'm  ready to face you again?" </p><p> </p><p>And that voice shuts off and Lucas can't  tell the difference from the silence that settles like company and the noises that echo in his head. </p><p> </p><p>But Eliott moves quick, eyes diverted and teeth gnawing on his lips. He leaves quick enough for Lucas to forget what just happened.</p><p> </p><p>Lucas is eighteen when he kisses Eliott—he relearns the meaning of embarrassment. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Lucas is eighteen when he learns Eliott is unwell. </p><p> </p><p>He stands in the workshop alone, waiting. Fingers playing  with the little sundials on table tops and trailing through the settled dust. When he picks up the sound of footsteps Lucas turns in place, a light smile on his face. He does it more often because Eliott tells him, he looks beautiful when he smiles.</p><p> </p><p>Lucas isn't  sure but Eliott smiles more often at him too. After his tuning sometimes Eliott would stay for tea. Maybe he doesn't  want Lucas to be alone but Lucas would watch him eat and the air between them filled with quiet murmuring as they shared everything. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes— and maybe Lucas makes up stories as he does now at night in lieu of sleep— Eliott's  hands would linger. Moved a little slower and touched him more gentle. </p><p> </p><p>Like he was delicate. </p><p> </p><p>Like Lucas deserved to be cherished.</p><p> </p><p>Like he was <em> normal.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Lucas is eighteen when he learns that something is wrong. He lies down the floor  where the minutes pass slower. Halfway through his overhaul Eliott pauses and asks,</p><p> </p><p>"Why the floor?" </p><p>His voice carried a mind numbing curiosity that had Lucas thinking up a future with just the two of them. With Eliott who wanted to know more about Lucas and it was as simple as Lucas thought. Where he shared and Eliott fell more in love with him. Lucas would be filled with thoughts of Eliott and realize by the day, he had always been in love with Eliott too. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas  doesn't  hesitate. </p><p> </p><p>"It's  like I'm closer to it. Closer to feeling alive when I'm  down here, on the ground. When I look up, all I see is you." </p><p> </p><p>Lucas watches how Eliott's face softens, how those eyes drop and there is a warmth that he directs at Lucas. </p><p> </p><p>"Eliott," Lucas pauses, waits for undivided attention. Waits for the sky in those eyes to be focused solely on him. "Do you believe that I am capable of love?" </p><p> </p><p>It's  not immediate. Eliott's answer. </p><p> </p><p>It's slow  in coming as his eyes flickered up and down and all over  Lucas and his body. Fingers tracing the seams on his chest and the small pin sized hole on his chest. Eliott's lips pulled down in a frown. </p><p> </p><p>Voice sad. </p><p> </p><p>"I never doubted that you could. Even when I first met you—"</p><p> </p><p>All those years before. Days, hours, minutes, and seconds. All laid out to form their past, their now and a future. </p><p> </p><p>"—I knew you felt love."</p><p> </p><p>Lucas smiles. </p><p> </p><p>"I love you." </p><p> </p><p>Eliott remains quiet. He helps Lucas up and leads him to a chair and sitting there Lucas thinks maybe he shouldn't have said anything because Eliott looks more sad than happy. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn't want that. Yet Eliott kneels in front of him, forehead pressed against his chest and palms warm against his knees. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas looks down at that tuft of hair and when the thought, that image of him running his fingers through soft locks hits him, Lucas recreates. </p><p> </p><p>He plays with chestnut strands, gentle with his touch and waits until Eliott is ready. Eliott who is 26 and hair already showing signs of light greying. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas loves it. He sees himself smiling so he does. </p><p> </p><p>"Do you love me?" </p><p> </p><p>He whispers, quiet like he fears stirring the other into acting. He sees the way Eliott's  shoulders sag slightly. Eliott turns to look at him and Lucas realizes their roles are reversed. </p><p> </p><p>He might just like looking down at Eliott just as much as he likes looking up at the other boy. </p><p> </p><p>"I do. I love you so much, Lucas. But I—" </p><p> </p><p>He looks away then looks back, fearfully. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm  not well Lucas."</p><p> </p><p>He is dying. </p><p> </p><p>It is an odd thought. An odd image to see his world crumbling. To see the ground break out from underneath him and to see himself falling without direction. </p><p> </p><p>But Lucas sees it clearly just like he hears Eliott. </p><p> </p><p>"I want to but would that be fair? To give you something that is going to be taken away." </p><p> </p><p>Lucas looks at the bags under starry eyes, looks at his pale face and cracked lips—how thin his Eliott looked and wonders what good were his eyes if he could not see what was in front of him. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas wishes he could cry. So perhaps he could show Eliott how that heart he was missing might just break from such admissions. </p><p> </p><p>He cradles Eliott's cheeks in the palm of his hand, loves the weight of it and does his best to burn the feel of it into his memory. </p><p> </p><p>"I want everything Eliott." </p><p> </p><p>He wants anything so that he may know what it is like to lose everything twice. </p><p> </p><p>"I think I should leave but I want you to tell me to stay." </p><p> </p><p>Eliott smiles when he drops a kiss on the center of Lucas' palms he leaves behind tears. </p><p> </p><p>"Stay." </p><p> </p><p>Lucas was eighteen when he learned his love was dying—it felt like his world was ending. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Lucas is eighteen when he relearns fear. </p><p> </p><p>Most nights he spends curled up in warm arms. His back pressed up tight against a waning chest. </p><p> </p><p>It seems that with each passing day Lucas remains the same and Eliott loses a small part of himself somewhere in the stream of time. </p><p> </p><p>He wants to pick up the pieces and give them back. Place them where they belong so that Eliott may be whole again. </p><p> </p><p>"Will you miss me when I'm gone?" Eliott asks and Lucas nods. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas thinks the question is silly and accompanied by a dim glow of a lamp in the quiet of the night it is the saddest confession. A song of a broken heart.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll  miss as much as I know how to." </p><p> </p><p>The smile doesn't  quite reach Eliott's eyes but Lucas doesn't  want for Eliott to push himself. He cherishes what he is given. </p><p> </p><p>"You'll  have to find  another clocksmith to work on your tuning." </p><p> </p><p>Lucas shakes his head. Because he can't  imagine other hands, those of a stranger, touching him— caring for him and making him live when he doesn't  want it. It wasn't  worth it if it wasn't  Eliott. </p><p> </p><p>"So you can live, please?"</p><p> </p><p>Lucas  understands his mother more than ever. To have a love for someone  it consumed her, forced her to chase down an answer that was not easily found. </p><p> </p><p>How hard she was willing to go to save her world for falling apart. </p><p> </p><p>He thinks of everything he has lost and stands to lose. Lucas recalls his mother and the touch of death, her chest and mouth and lungs devoid of breath. He thinks of the old master and hazy eyes and slowing movements. </p><p> </p><p>He thinks of Eliott dying and graveside flowers blooming, bright red and a sad white. </p><p> </p><p>"Is this what we call living?" A</p><p>He asks out loud. "Watching everyone we love leave us behind?" </p><p> </p><p>"Lucas…" </p><p> </p><p>"I don't  think you understand Eliott." Lucas tells him.</p><p> </p><p>Because his lover doesn't. He doesn't  get how much Lucas <em> wants </em>. </p><p> </p><p>"I wanted to be alive for so long and you make me feel like I am." </p><p> </p><p>Lucas wishes that might flow for him again. </p><p> </p><p>But if it doesn't then he would  be okay, because Eliott was there. That is enough. </p><p> </p><p>He leans in with a soft kiss to the cheek, he breathes in deeply like he could smell Eliott and carry the scent of him—comfort—wherever he goes. </p><p> </p><p>"Wait for me." </p><p> </p><p>Lucas thinks that fate mocks him. Where he always had so much of time but now when he needs it most, it avoids him. Hides away, scared. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas leaves, and while he is gone he counts the seconds. It doesn't  take him long to track down his answer. To find out that it was always in him. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> "You always had it in you to give, maybe that's  why I saved you so many years ago. Learn to give again." </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Lucas can do that; he thinks he can give everything. He would give everything because H=he found something, <em> someone </em>, to love and was lucky enough to have them love him back. </p><p> </p><p>He wasn't  ready to give that up. He wasn't  ready to lose those nights spent smiling at each other. He wanted to be held, intimately. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas wanted to grow pliant under skillful fingers. </p><p> </p><p>He wants Eliott. He wants to spend his minutes telling Eliott over and over again, "<em> I love you, always."  </em></p><p> </p><p>He wants to hear Eliott say it back. Instead of his world crumbling, Lucas wants to build it up with memories. He can't  do that alone, he knows. Lucas makes his way back, counting the second it takes for him to reach the place he considers home. </p><p> </p><p>He finds Eliott weak in bed, and Lucas moves to shed his clothing, curling up close to Eliott's  warmth. </p><p> </p><p>Like second nature Eliott wraps his arms around Lucas and pulls him close. His nose nuzzles into Lucas' hair, lips leaving love nips on the skin behind his ears, down his chin, to the column of his neck—voice a broken whisper, hot against Lucas' skin and full of longing,</p><p> </p><p>"You were gone for too long." </p><p> </p><p>Lucas turns and holds a palm against Eliott's chest and counts the slow beats. Lying down like this with Eliott and to feel the rush of blood, a jumping pulse was a dream. </p><p> </p><p>"If I give my time to you, will you take it?" </p><p> </p><p>Eliott's heartbeat quickens and Lucas searches his face for a yes while the answer that slips out is a,</p><p> </p><p>"No. It's  yours." </p><p> </p><p>All Lucas can do is laugh, smile as he presses his forehead against that of Eliott's. He smiles at the selflessness of a dying man. </p><p> </p><p>Pushing, Lucas captures Eliott's lips in a kiss, feverish—kissing for Lucas is different for Eliott. Lucas kisses to communicate his need for Eliott to say yes. </p><p> </p><p>When he pulls away, Eliott is breathless and his eyes hazy with a cloud of rolling love. Lucas memorizes the curves and dips and planes of that face. Just as it is. </p><p> </p><p>"Silly. I was given forever—I don't  need forever." </p><p> </p><p>Fingers run slow and trail the cool skin of his hips; moves up to trace the outline of his lips. </p><p> </p><p>"All I need is you and what time we have left. Say yes." He urges. </p><p> </p><p>He wants Eliott to see that what they would be left with is enough to last them a lifetime, short or long as it maybe; it is all he wants. </p><p> </p><p>"Okay. Yes." </p><p> </p><p>Lucas is eighteen when he tells Eliott— </p><p> </p><p>"It's  yours." </p><p> </p><p>—only to have Eliott shake his head and respond,</p><p> </p><p>"Ours." </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I would realllllly love to hear your thoughts. PLEASE WITH FUCKING SPRINKLES???</p><p>and DID I USE A GOD AWFUL PUN for the LAST WORD? You fucking bet I did.<br/>come scream at me on tumblr @<a href="https://bluronyourradar.tumblr.com/">bluronyourradar</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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